Barovia (Village): Continued Presence

Without further distractions, I return to the study of the collected tomes. Fascinations abound as I pour over the historical texts from House Durst, seeing what information remains intact between ellipses born of water damage and faded ink. It is unfortunate that these were among the most-preserved in the house and were still so damaged. A great wealth of information once existed there, as it no doubt did here; the Burgomeister’s manor is filled with shelves crowded with damaged volumes. Nothing captures my interest in a brief pass of his collection-- at least, not more so than what I already have.
 
When I am satisfied for the moment with Durst’s books, I reopen the arcanist’s tome and pour over his techniques. Arcane power is pitiful as ever, but I have learned all-too-well that it is dangerous in the right hands, an effective crutch for those without the will nor the capacity to devote themselves to psionics. I pour over the explanations of movement, ideation, energy shifting, and execution. There is much to be learned in this book, without learning an ounce of its malintended curriculum.
 
A disturbance breaks my focus. Belmont, in the distance, shouts for my presence in the heart of town. For his immense confidence, I’m sure he would not call upon me were it unnecessary. I set down the spellbook and depart, watched by the siblings as I move through their home.
 
I have no disguise now, as I trudge through the muddied causeway. Were any of the podunk fools in this backwater not riddled with fear and cowering away from their doors, they could easily see me as I am. My only clear witnesses are chirping insects.
 
Starting to see the others crowded in the square, I turn the corner of the vendors building and immediately lock eyes with a haggard old woman, being threatened by my companions yet entirely unconcerned by their aggressions. She belches a coy remark to Belmont and the others before casting some kind of escape magick. I am uncertain which of our parties was the fortunate one in this withdrawal.
 
I join the others at a cart which was pushed by the old woman, itself laden with pies that seem to tantalize the others. As I peel one open to see if anything suspect is within, Belmont mentions that the woman was a fiend of some sort-- at his estimation, a hag. I have limited knowledge of them, as their kind have strictly avoided my own throughout most of our shared histories, and my tenure as an Information Broker led to inconclusive reports of their abilities. Setting down the sample pie, I urge caution and to avoid eating these pies; Belmont believes that to be obvious, but Quicknife is flirting with the possibility of consuming one. Leaving them to their business at the Vistani tavern, I return to the Burgomeister's estate and resume my study. My movements are becoming less threatening to Ireena and Ismark.
 
As night falls, the others return. Belmont speaks at length with Ireena, and I overhear that Strahd sends out agents to collect his taxes. Additionally, we are cautioned that some of the Vistani are allied with him and are not to be trusted. Ireena is mentally prepared for the risks of travel, and asserts she is willing and of the capacity to fight. As that conversation finishes, Ismark returns to me and presents a crude hand-drawn map of the region; there is no precision in his work, but it is enough to retain a basic sense of locational awareness, and to be useful in context while traveling the roads. He makes his offer of 50 gold pieces for transporting his sister to Vallaki. I tell him both are acceptable.
 
As we find our spaces to sleep, I take my place beneath the staircase; a dense and intact wall at my back, and out of sight of the various boarded windows and doors. At some point in the night, the window beyond the staircase to my left bursts open as a pack of wolves descend into the house. I ready my soulknives, prepared to eradicate them.